


Why coffee is great.

by Youdidnotseethatcoming



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: At all really but a little, Author is also pretty sleep deprived on a regular basis, Character Death, Civil war and infinity war take place closer then in cannon, Clint Barton acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Deaf Clint Barton, Gen, Help, Hurt Peter Parker, I’m going to kill aunt May I’m sorry, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Clint Barton, Peter Parker is a Sweetheart, Peter is Fifteen in infinity war, Peter is a Little Shit, Peter is a bit of a theater nerd, Peter is fourteen, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Clint Barton, Timeline?, What Was I Thinking?, What timeline?, Will get more violent as it goes on, Will hopefully get better as this goes on, also more swearing as it goes on, and just turned fourteen when this story starts, and pre homecoming, author is regretting life decisions, because why not?, hopefully, i don’t know how to tag, i really don’t know, i think I added to many tags, im gonna die aren’t i, im probably doing this all wrong, im sorry, not cannon, pre cacw, probably, some blood and violence, spanish homework, this is a train wreck, was first posted on Fanfiction.Net, what the fuck I’m i doing?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-08-09 09:39:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16447382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Youdidnotseethatcoming/pseuds/Youdidnotseethatcoming
Summary: Clint Barton aka Hawkeye never expected to have family and he accepted that, sure he felt a little lonely sometimes, but that doesn’t mean he wanted a family or was ever going to have one. He accepted that. Unfortunately for him the universe did not. Really the only thing he wanted was a fixed coffee maker and a cup of coffee, but add Peter Parker and things are bound to get a little complicated. Or how Clint Barton accidentally became Peter Parker’s dad. deaf!Clint Barton. Also Peter is Tony’s intern because, you know, plot convenience. Set before CACW and Homecoming. Also Peter is fourteen in this because I love my smol little spider.





	1. Coffee makers and interns.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everybody! This is my first fanfiction on ao3 and I honestly have no idea what the fuck I’m doing, so I’m just going to apologize. I hope you all enjoy! *go dies in a hole*

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel.

“Tony!” Clint called, bolting out of the elevator (much to Tony’s annoyance) “My coffee machine is broken and I need you to fix it!”

“And why is it my problem that you have an obsession with coffee and can’t go an hour without it?” Tony asked.

“Oh please, you drink more coffee then I do!” Clint retorted, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, that may be true but at least I can somewhat control myself, you just chug it. But that’s besides the point, why do you need me to fix it? We practically have hundreds of coffee makers,” Tony snapped back.

“Yeah, well the one I use is the only one that doesn’t have a freaking self destruct button!” Clint groaned. Why is it such a big deal to fix a coffee maker?!

“Okay, I’m busy right now, so I’m going to let one of my poor interns take care of your stupid ass. Sound like a plan?” Tony said, letting his usual snark come out.

“Whatever, as long as my coffee maker doesn’t get a self destruct button put on it.”

“Fine. I’ll let F.R.I.D.A.Y summon one of my interns.”

Lalalalala-i still don’t know how the fuck to use this fucking site so this is my version of a line break-lalalalalalalala

(twenty five minutes later)

Clint had been waiting upstairs with no sign of an intern. Great, just great. Now he had to go back downstairs, yell at Tony to fix the freaking coffee machine, and then die inside for the next three days while Tony messed around with it. Well that’s what he was thinking he was going to have to do until a small, dark haired, Bambi eyed, slightly frantic looking teenage boy came tripping out of the elevator.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, sir! Mr Stark told me to come up here and I was going to, but then one of the other interns accidentally blew something up and it got everywhere, and I mean like everywhere, and then we had to try and clean it up but what we were doing wasn’t working, so then we had to try and find some cleaning supplies, but we couldn’t find any, and it was just a big mess, and I’m really, really sorry! And now I’m going to stop talking and actually do something.” The kid said, somehow managing to get every word out in one breath.

“First of all, kid, can I call you kid? I’m go to call you kid for now. I’m not mad, so relax. Second of all, not your fault. Third of all, jeez, you look like you’re going to pass out, so like maybe breath,” Clint said, putting his hands up in a surrendering like manner, trying to show the kid that he wasn’t upset. (Which more or less worked to calm him the kid down).

“Okay, sir,” the kid said taking a deep breath. “Mr Stark said that you wanted me to fix something, right?”

“Yeah, my coffee machine,” Clint informed.

“Okay. Um...where is it?” The kid asked.

“Oh yeah, it’s right here,” Clint said pointing towards a (somehow) burned and leaking coffee machine. “Think you can fix it, kid?”

“I mean, probably, but if you don’t mind me asking, how did you break it exactly?” Looking ever so slightly disturbed. “Also my name is Peter if you were wondering.”

“Uh...Steve was trying to use it yesterday and he couldn’t figure it out so he kinda, well you can probably figure out the rest, anyways, I tried to use it this morning and that happened.” Clint said making a face at the thought of it. “Also I’m still going to call you kid because I’m attached to the nickname now.”

“Okay, um...I should be able to fix it by later today or tomorrow.” Peter said, looking slightly scarred.

“Sounds like a plan.” Clint said, going over and grabbing the coffee machine and handing it over to Peter.

“You don’t have to answer this, but why don’t you just get a new one?” Peter asked.

“That wouldn’t be as fun as having one of Tony’s interns fix it,” Clint said with a small smirk.

“Okay then,” Peter said, giving Clint a wary look.

“Well, good luck and please don’t make a self destruct button,” Clint said patting Peter’s shoulder and steering him towards the elevator.

A muttered “What the hell” from Peter was the last thing Clint heard from Peter before the elevator door shut close.

Lalalalala-line break-lalalalala

Peter, as estimated, fixed the coffee maker that day.

He apparently did such a good that he became Clint’s go to for fixing his stuff. “Stuff” included Clint’s hearing aids, coffee machine (the damn thing breaks a lot) and once or twice some of his Hawkeye stuff (only if Tony was really busy).

Taking in the fact that this happened in the span of roughly two weeks, it was safe to say that Clint had become slightly attached to the kid. Keyword there (according to Clint) being ‘slightly.’ He refused to say that he liked the kid ( not ‘like’ as in the creepy illegal way, ‘like’ as in the ‘I care about the kid’ way). Sure he enjoyed the kid’s company, but that didn’t mean he cared or was ever going to care about the kid. Nope, not one bit...

Unfortunately for Clint he was soon going to be proven wrong


	2. Spanish homework

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spanish homework sucks. But having a spy help you makes it a little easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all you wonderful humans! Here is the next chapter, do NOT expect the updates to be this often (I usually post once every two weeks) but I posted this story on Fanfiction.net a couple weeks back and just posted this update yesterday. Hope you all enjoy! Also a special thanks to my sister for being my beta. Heads up that I’m not completely positive about the Spanish in this chapter (I’m going off my older brothers answers to his homework), so I apologize if I have anything wrong.

Disclaimer: I don’t own marvel or anything else that I mention.

Clint wasn’t attached. Nope. He refused to say he was attached to that damn kid. Okay, so maybe he listened to a couple musicals that the kid liked (which included: Dear Evan Hansen, Hamilton, Be more chill, Waitress, and In The Heights) and maybe he stopped by this place call “Delmar’s Deli” because the kid recommended it, but that did not mean he was attached to the kid. (According to Clint anyway.)

Despite what he said, he was still a little concerned when he walked into Tony’s lab to see Peter banging his head on the table.

“Okay, first of all, what are you doing? Besides giving yourself a concussion. Second of all, where is Tony exactly? It’s not like him to just leave his interns unsupervised in his lab, no offense,” Clint asked, slightly confused.

“Well, to answer your first question, Spanish homework. To answer your second question, Mr. Stark has a meeting that’s going late and Ms. Potts is making him stay, but he said since I was already here that I could just do my homework in here as long as I didn’t touch anything,” Peter said laying his head atop of the table.

“Okay, If you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you go home? Not that Tony or I mind you hanging around here in until he gets back, but wouldn’t it make more sense to go home and come back later once he’s here?” Clint asked.

“Ehh, Mr. Stark said he would be back in an hour and it’s a thirty minute walk back to my apartment so I’d just have to turn around the moment I got back,” Peter explained, looking back down at his Spanish homework.

“I can help you with you Spanish if you want,” Clint said with a shrug. What? It’s not like he wanted to spend time with the kid or anything, it just-he just-he just didn’t have anything better to do? Yeah, that was totally it! Totally…

“Really? You know Spanish?” Peter asked.

“Yeah, kid, I’m a spy. Gotta know at least a couple of languages to be one and Spanish is one of them,” Clint responded with a snort.

“Are you sure you want to? I know you probably have better things to do,” Peter said, slightly hesitant.

“I literally have nothing else to do. Steve and Natasha are only here on the weekends and even then sometimes they don’t come back here, Bruce is lord knows where and so is Thor, and Wanda, Sam, and Rhodes stay at the compound for training. Also it’s nice to hang out with someone who doesn’t make me want to smash my hearing aids just to avoid a headache from a conversation with them,” Clint said, trying to make the teen understand that it wasn’t a bother.

“If you’re sure.”

“Positive.”

“Okay then,” Peter said with a nod, as Clint pulled a chair up to the table the teen was working at.

“How about I say a sentence and then you have to translate it?” Clint asked looking down at Peter’s homework.

“Sounds like a plan,” Peter said running a hand through his hair. 

“¿Cómo se dice…?” Clint asked.

“How do you say,” Peter said confidently.

“Yep! How about, ¿Puede tomar el agua?” 

“Can I have some water?”

“That’s right!” Clint said giving the kid a small grin. 

And so for the rest of the evening the two worked on Peter’s Spanish. They eventually moved on from Peter translating stuff to Clint teaching Peter to pronounce things, claiming, “If you’re able to pronounce it, it’s easier to remember it and it’s just over all important.” They did this until Peter was practically asleep and drooling on his homework.

“Okay, let’s get you home,” Clint said with a chuckle, looking down at his watch and realizing they had been working for the last three hours and it was now eight o’clock. God, where the hell was Tony?

“Okay,” Peter managed to grumble as he stood up and started collecting his things, a job Clint soon took over after Peter accidentally dropped his Spanish book on his foot then proceeded to hit his head on the table after he bent down to pick it up.

“Come on kid, let’s get you home,” Clint said as he picked up Peter’s, now full, backpack and swung it over his shoulder.

“I can walk myself home alone, Mr. Barton,” Peter said, slightly red in the face at the fact that an Avenger was offering to walk him home.

“Not a chance, kiddo,” Clint replied, with a shake of his head. “I’m not letting a fourteen year old boy walk thirty minutes home in the dark in New York City.”

“At least let me carry my backpack,” Peter argued.

“Kid, if I let you carry this your going to tip over,” Clint stated.

“Fine, you win, sir.”

Lalalala-Still don’t know how to use a motherfucking line break on this site-lalalala

After a thirty minute walk in New York’s chilly winter weather, Clint had made the decision that he was never letting this kid walk home alone. Ever. Because if Clint was tired after walking for that long and was this cold,  
the kid had to be exhausted and freezing.

“Thanks for taking me home,” Peter said with a smile on his face, effectively snapping Clint out of his thoughts.

“No problem, kiddo,” Clint said with a grin as he ruffled the kid’s hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yep!” The kid said as he opened the door to his apartment building. “I’ll see you then!” 

“See you then.”

Lalalala-i hate this fuckin site-lalalala

As Clint got into the elevator at the tower he couldn’t help but feel a little sick. He actually had a pretty good time helping Peter out with his Spanish, he wasn’t lying when he said that he had nothing else to do, but he couldn’t help but enjoy himself. He wasn’t going to lie, he liked the kid, he was an adorable, smart, innocent, little sweetheart, but one of the things that made him amazing was one of the things that made Clint’s heart twist painfully with fear: innocence. He had only known the kid for about two weeks but even then he could tell that he always looked for the good in people and in the world, and if Clint was being honest he was terrified that if he got close to him that he was going to take that away from him. He cared about the kid. And that’s why he couldn’t get close.

But almost nothing ever goes the way he planned. And he would only ever admit this to himself, but he hoped that this was one of them.


	3. Mario kart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everybody! Hope you’re doing good! Here’s the next chapter, hope you all enjoy! Also, big thanks to my sister for being my beta! Ps sorry that this kinda sucks, I’m trying to give you guys a bit of fluff before, well, you know... anyways, sorry! Disclaimer: I own nothing. (I don’t know if anybody does the disclaimer thing on here, but on FanFiction.Net it’s kinda the usual lol)

Clint wasn’t going to lie, he had done a lot of stupid things in his life. And when Clint says a lot, he means a shit ton a lot. Giving Peter Parker his number was one of them. But if you want to go even deeper and darker into his lovely, handcrafted, town of Stupid-Ville, the stupidest thing he’s ever done was probably agreeing to play Mario kart with Peter Parker at two in the morning.

Lalalala-I fucking hate line breaks so much-lalalala

(Flash back to two in the morning)

Clint could not sleep. He could not for the life of him fall asleep. He had been trying since twelve o’clock. That was two hours ago. So like any sane person does, he got out bed to play video games, because why not? 

“God, I’m going to regret this tomorrow,” Clint thought to himself as he reluctantly got out of his bed (his first mistake). “But, hey, it’s not like my sleep schedule can get any more fucked up then it is.”

He grabbed his phone and went out into to the peasant (main avengers) floor that he shared with the rest.

Surprisingly his phone dinged. ‘What the hell?’ Clint thought.

“U up?” It was from Peter. ‘Why the actual hell is he up?’ Clint thought, confused.

“Yea, but why the hell are u up?” Clint texted back.

“I could ask you the same thing” Peter texted back.

Clint sighed and texted “couldn’t sleep, u?”

“It’s Friday night”

“Seriously” Clint texted back, rolling his eyes “teenagers”

“Harsh” Peter texted. “Do u want to play Mario kart???”

“Do you want to build a snowman???”

“Why”

“Sorry that u can’t appreciate greatness”

“Yes or noooo”

“Fine” (Clint’s second mistake) and with that Clint through his phone onto the couch and started setting everything up.

Lalalala-Why am I sobbing over a fucking line break-lalalala

Fifteen minutes trying to figure out how to hook everything up and three humorous texts from Peter later, they were on their way playing multiplayer. 

And that’s when Clint’s regret started kicking in.

The first round went pretty good, Clint only lost by inch. But then the second round he got absolutely crushed.

“What the hell?” Clint said through the headset they were both using.

“What? I didn’t do anything,” Peter said innocently from the other end of the com.

Oh god.

“Okay, yeah, rematch.”

“Weren’t we already planning on another match?” Peter asked teasingly.

“Shut up,” Clint muttered, causing Peter to giggle. A sound that always seemed to make Clint smile. And with that round three began.

“Come on!” Clint said as Peter speed past him. “What the hell?”

“What? Not my fault that you suck,” Peter laughed through the com.

“I hate you.”

“Whatever you say, man.”

And with that the real games began. They honestly didn’t mean to play for three hours straight, but you know how it is. One game leads to another game leads to another and so on and so on. 

“Um...kid?” Clint said through the com set.

“Yeah.”

“It’s five o’clock in the morning.”

“I regret nothing,” Peter said, obviously tired.

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah, May has the night shift so she’s going to sleep in, rightfully so, but I don’t have to be up in till like twelve.” 

“Well, that makes one of us.”

“Have fun.”

“I hate you, so much.”

And with that they said their goodbyes and both hung up, Clint smiling despite getting his ass kicked repeatedly by a fourteen year old boy and having to go get his ass kicked again during training. Oh joy.


	4. Phone call of doom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the next chapter, hope you all enjoy!

Tonight was supposed to be a fairly quiet night for Clint. Steve and Natasha were around at the tower and they had managed to get Tony out of his lab and they were all hanging out like, well, friends. Just some pizza, TV, a few drinks (Steve and Tony had a slight chug off), and they were having a pretty good time. Until Clint got a phone call from Peter.

“Hold on guys, I’ve got to take this,” Clint said, setting down his pizza and picking his phone up and answering.

“Hey kid, what’s up?” Clint asked.

“It’s-it’s about May,” Peter stuttered from the other side, sounding shaken.

“What about her?” Clint asked, worry seeping into his voice.

“She-she got hit by a car,” Peter choked out, “she’s in the-she’s in the hospital, and I-I don’t know what to do and I’m sorry about calling you, but you were the first person to come to mind and I’m really sorry-”

“Hey, shh, it’s okay,” Clint said, trying to calm the kid down as he got up from his position on the floor, “it’s okay kiddo, but I need you to take a deep breath and try to calm down.”

“I can’t,” Peter sobbed out.

“Yes you can, I need you to take a deep breath,” Clint said as calmly as he could manage as he got into the elevator not even bothering to explain what was going on. “I’m going to be right there, okay? But in the meantime I need you to breath with me, okay? Ready?”

“Yeah,” Peter managed to say.

“Okay, in, one, two, three, out, one, two, three, in, one, two three, out, one, two three,” Clint continued until he walked out of the building and Peter had his breathing semi under control. “Okay, there we go, good job, bud. Now, did they tell you anything else?”

“All they said was she got hit by a drunk driver and she got taken by an ambulance to the hospital, they-they said she might not make it,” Peter whispered, his voice sounding worse than ever.

“Shhh, everything’s going to be okay. You’re at home, right?” 

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’m going to get a taxi and I should be there in about ten minutes, okay?” Clint said gently as he hailed a taxi down.

“Okay.”

“I want you to get anything you think you might need, phone charger, a clean t-shirt, and I know it’s the middle of April but you still need to bring a coat, and anything else you might need, also I’m going to need you to let me in when I get there,” Clint said as he got into a taxi.

“Okay, and I’m sorry about everything,” Peter said, voice low and broken.

“Hey, you have no need to be sorry, bud, I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay? Do you want to keep talking or do you want to focus on getting your stuff pulled together?”

“I’ll get my stuff.”

Lalalala-*screaming* I. Hate. Line. Breaks. So. Much.-lalalala

Clint had finally made it to Peter’s apartment building, shooting Peter a quick text to let him know that he was here so he could buzz him in, once he did Clint headed up to Peter.

He silently prayed that he had the right apartment as he knocked on the door. Luckily he did as Peter opened the door. He looked exhausted, with his eyes bloodshot and his face slightly dampened.

“Thanks for coming,” Peter said quietly, his small frame trembling ever so slightly.

“It’s not problem, Pete,” Clint said, ruffling the kids hair, “we better get going.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Peter said with a sigh as he locked the door behind him.

“Yeah.”

Lalalala-*screaming intensifies*-lalalala

They had made it to the hospital in record time, now Clint was trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do from here. He had already checked in and they had said she had gone into surgery and would be out in a couple of hours, they had also warned him that her chance of survival was incredibly slim and they should be prepared for the worst. Clint didn’t know what to do if he was being honest, in the case that she did die what was he going to do? Nope, nope, nope he couldn’t think like that, Peter needed him and he couldn’t let his head mess around.

“Clint?” The small voice of Peter broke through his whirlwind of thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“What am I going to do If May doesn’t make it?” He asked pitifully.

“She will,” Clint said confidently, but somewhere in the back of his head he scolded himself for saying things that might not be true.

“But what if she doesn’t? I don’t want to be alone, Clint, I don’t wanna be alone, it was bad enough when Ben died but at least I had May, if she dies I’m going to be alone,” Peter said, stumbling over his words, trembling uncontrollably.

“Hey, look at me,” Clint said cupping Peter’s check in his hand, “if she doesn’t make it, I promise I won’t leave you alone, okay? I promise you, I will not let anything happen to you.” His own time in foster care flashed before his eyes.

“I don’t want you to have to do something you don’t need to do,” Peter whispered.

“I wouldn’t.”

Lalalala-ahahaha I’m sobbing-lalalala

Four hours they had been waiting, four long, agonizing hours, in till one of the nurses finally called them. 

“Mister Parker?” One of them called out.

“Yes,” Parker said, practically jumping out of his seat.

“Your aunt is out of surgery and ready to be seen,” the nurse said.

“Okay.”

“But, I’m afraid that I must be the one to bear the news that her chances of surviving the night are slim,” he said, pity seeping into every word.

Peter only nodded, his whole mind obviously spinning, looking about ready to collapse. Clint put an arm around the kid’s waist.

“You’re okay,” Clint whispered, “I’ve got you.”

A sense of overwhelming dread filled Clint’s body as the two followed the nurse. The was going to be one of the hardest nights of his life.


	5. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m an asshole, I’m sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everybody! Hope y’all had a good week and are having a good weekend! Here’s the next chapter, I’m sorry about this one because it’s kinda sad... my bad! Hope y’all enjoy anyways! I’m gonna go die now because I spent four hours today making this and I’m honestly not sure what to think about it. Ahahaha, I’m just gonna go now. 
> 
> Warning: character death.
> 
> Disclaimer, blah, blah, blah disclaimer, disclaimer, I don’t own shit.

They had been sitting there for three hours. Clint could tell Peter was losing it. He hadn’t left May’s side since they were allowed to see her, holding her hand, whispering, begging her not to leave him. Who wouldn’t? All the poor kid could do was sit there helplessly, the fact that May was probably not going to make it consuming the poor kid like quicksand. Clint tried to have some hope, but he had seen his fair share of injuries, whether it was his own or his teammates this definitely was on the worser part of the list. The only people he knew that could walk off that many injuries was Thor, The Hulk, and Cap. A normal human was not built to get that hurt, they especially weren’t built to live after it, Peter was a smart kid, he’s sure the kid knew that. But that’s what made it worse. Putting denial against facts. 

It was hell for the poor kid. And there was nothing Clint could do about it.

“Clint?” Peter whispered, slowly get up from his place next to May and moving towards him, breaking Clint out of his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“She’s not gonna make it, is she?” Peter asked helplessly, raw pain in his voice as he sat in the chair that was next to Clint’s.

“I’m not going to lie, bud, things aren’t looking to good. I’m so sorry, but you’re gonna have to prepare yourself for the worse,” Clint said gently as he could, hating every single goddamn word that was coming out of his mouth, hating the fact that this kid, this amazing, sweet kid had to go through this again. 

Peter only nodded, leaning into Clint slightly from his seat beside him, defeat clear as day on his face.

Clint’s heart broke, this kid’s life was so messed up. He knew the kid had just lost his uncle a few months back, his aunt had talked to him for a little while one time after he had brought the kid home during a particularly bad snow storm they had a little after they had first met and May had brought up the fact that she was happy that Peter was comfortable around him, saying nostalgically that ‘he’s been so shy and uncomfortable around any of his male teachers and peers since his uncle, my husband, died a few months ago, it’s nice to see that he’s getting more comfortable.’ 

Clint could only pull Peter closer to him, trying to give him some form of comfort.

“Try to get some rest kid,” Clint whispered softly, gently running his hand through the kid’s hair trying to soothe him enough to fall asleep, “I’ll wake you up if something goes wrong.”

“What about you?” Peter mumbled.

“I’ll be fine kid. Just get some sleep.” 

And eventually the kid fell asleep, unfortunately not for long.

Lalalala- Ahahaha I’m dead inside-lalalala

Maybe an hour passed while the kid was asleep, Clint had been scrolling through his phone, only now just realizing that he had over twenty messages on his phone along with seven missed calls from the guys asking ‘where the hell are you?’ Or ‘is everything okay? Where are you?’ He didn’t respond to a single one. He’d tell them later, but he couldn’t call them, he didn’t know why but he just couldn’t bring himself to tell them this sort of thing over the phone or text, he knew it meant nothing to them, except for maybe Tony, but it just felt like it was to unreal to just casually send a text and tell them what was going on. He just couldn’t do that.

All suddenly he felt Peter shift away from him, the kid’s head snapping up, wide awake.

“Something’s wrong,” the kid stammered out, beginning to shake. 

“What is?” 

“I don’t know, but something’s wrong,” Peter said becoming more frantic.

And almost as on cue, May’s heart monitor went off, signaling that she was flat lining.

And the world became a blur, Peter froze, Clint pulled him out of the room as the doctors flowed in.

The doctors tried to save her. But she couldn’t be revived.

-line break-

Clint had managed to get Peter back home, despite the heartbreaking head shake and whisper of “no” that came from the kid.

After standing outside of the kid’s apartment door for five minutes trying to find the spare key that Peter had managed mumble about, they finally went inside.

“Come on, bud,” Clint whispered gently, leading the kid over to the sofa.

Clint could feel Peter shake slightly as they sat down, he automatically wrapped his arms around the kid, which Peter leaned into. Both just sitting there, Peter in a daze after what had just happened.

They sat there for thirty minutes until Peter’s dam broke.

“I’m alone,” Peter stated quietly, the first of many tears starting to fall down his cheeks, “I’m alone, I’m alone, I’m alone, I’m alone.”

“Shhh, I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Clint shushed, holding the kid tighter.

Peter’s cries only grew louder, “What am I’m gonna do, I’m alone, I’m alone, oh god, she’s gone.”

“You’ll be okay, you’ll be okay, I’ve got you.”

All Clint could do was pull Peter onto his lap, as the kid practically screamed into his chest, tears running uncontrollably down his face. 

After an hour Peter finally calmed down, exhaustion finally taking over the heartbroken kid as he sat limply in Clint’s arms.

“Clint?” Peter managed to ask, his voice horse and raw.

“Yeah, Pete?” Clint asked, running a hand through Peter’s hair.

“Please don’t leave me,” Peter mumbled, already mostly asleep.

“I promise,” Clint whispered, looking down at the kid, “I won’t leave you, I’ll take care of you. I swear, you’re not alone, I’ve got you, Pete.”

Clint didn’t know what the next move was gonna be, all he knew was that he couldn’t leave this kid. He was not going to let him down, he couldn’t. Peter needed him.


	6. The funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don’t even know what this is even.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo, first of all, I’d like to apologize for the wait. I had some writers block but I know that’s not really an excuse, I’m sorry. Moving on, this chapter is basically a mess, I don’t know what I did to be honest with you, but it ain’t exactly pretty. So that’s fuuuuun. Anyways, hope y’all enjoy despite how crappy it is.
> 
> Disclaimer: (because why not?) I don’t own marvel.
> 
> (Also, the reason this isn’t more angsty is because I’m going off my own personal experience, you’re usually mostly numb during the funeral then falling to pieces, but It totally depends on you experience, I’m just going off mine)

It had been five days since May Parker had died. It had been five days since Peter Parker lost his last living relative. It had been five long, agonizing days.

It was finally the day of the funeral.

Clint could easily tell Peter was going through hell. Peter had to tell his best friend the day after his aunt died, had to tell (along with Clint himself) all of May’s friends that she was dead, and the kid (again, along with Clint) had to talk to social services, who, only gave the kid and Clint a week to figure out what they planned on doing, if Clint was actually going to adopt Peter, or if Peter was going to go into the foster system. 

Which lead to a whole different set of problems for Clint. Clint had promised not to leave the kid, but it took a lot more to make everything official then a promise made in the early hours of the morning. Obviously Clint had no intention on letting the kid go into the foster system, but at the same time it was a big decision to make, and despite knowing full well that he wasn’t going to leave the kid to the foster system, he still had his doubts on his capabilities on being able to take care of a child. He had talked extensively about it with Natasha after he had explained what was going on, she had said ‘it’s up to you and him, if he’s comfortable with it and so are you, then I think you would be able to take care of him. You know him pretty well, but you also haven’t known him for a long enough time for him to pin you in a specific role in his life. It would be a big change for the both of you, and you also have to take into account your line of work. But at the end of the day you’ll do what’s best for him, because that’s you, and you care about the kid. You’ll do the right thing.’ And honestly Clint wasn’t sure if he had found the conversation helpful, or slightly frustrating. But in the meantime Clint was pushing it aside and focusing on getting Peter through the day.

“Clint?” Peter called out from his room as Clint finished getting himself ready to go.

“Yeah?” 

“Can you come here?” 

“What-” Clint started to say, but the words died in his mouth as he walked into the kid’s room, the sight in front of him worthy of those fake laughs that they have on sitcoms, “what did you do?”

“That’s a good question,” Peter said with a nervous laughter of sorts. He had somehow managed to get one of his hand tied in, well, his tie.

“So you’ve never tied a tie before I take it?” Clint said with an amused snort as he made his way over to the incredibly stuck kid. 

“What do you think?”

“Well for all I know this could be some form of advance tying method that I’ve never heard of before,” Clint said humorously as he untangled Peter’s hand and started fixing the tie.

“Hardy har har,” Peter said, rolling his eyes playfully, “I’ve worn one once, but I’ve never tied one.”

“Well, in your defense the first time I tied one was when I was maybe seventeen? Somewhere around there, and I messed it up so badly I had to use a pair of scissors to get myself out.”

“Oh my god, and I thought I was bad,” Peter remarked, chuckling.

“Oh you are, I was just worse,” Clint stated in a matter of fact voice, laughing when Peter shot him a joking glare. 

The atmosphere quickly changed once he was done though, the days event yet to begin.

“Are you ready?” Clint asked gently as he put an arm around the kid’s shoulder.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Lalalala-I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna shrivel up and die-lalalala

It was happening, the thing they’d both been dreading since the day after she died.

The funeral.

Peter had been quiet since they walked out the apartment door, staying close to Clint.

It was small, only a few close friends and colleagues, Ned was there along with his parents.

Everybody was quietly talking among each other, trying to forget the feeling that you get these sorts of things, Peter had left his spot next to Clint and was talking with Ned.

Clint watched the kid quietly, making sure that he was okay, or as okay as you can be in this situation at least.

It was another twenty minutes until Peter came back to where Clint was, sighing.

“You doing okay?” Clint asked tentatively.

“I think, but I’m not really sure to be honest,” Peter said a minorly confused look on his face, “if that makes any sense.”

“I know what you mean.”

“I’m not ready to say goodbye,” Peter whispered, eyes looking anywhere but May’s casket.

“I know you’re not,” Clint said shakily, squeezing the kid’s hand gently, “I don’t think anyone ever is.”

Lalalala-lets have line breaks they said, It’ll be fun they said-lalalala

It was over, four hours of everybody’s worse nightmare, but it was over.

The kid had to bury his aunt.

But the kid made it through, he wasn’t able to do a speech and was barely able to talk to anyone but Clint and Ned, and he cried when they buried her, but he made it through.

And now it was just Clint and Peter.

Both sitting on the fire escape outside Peter’s window. Peter’s tie was untied and laying over his shoulder, draping in the front, and Clint had taken his own coat off and was sporting his dress pants and a white button down. Both looking at the ironically beautiful sunset. Wondering what was going to happen.

Peter sighed asking the question they were both thinking.

“What are we going to do? We have three day until we have to have this figured out.”

“I guess we better figure then,” Clint stated, biting the inside of cheek, “What do you want though?”

“What do you mean?”

“This decision affects both of us, but it affects you the most, and you should get the final say in it.”

“If I’m being honest, I’m afraid that I’ll ruin your life if I say yes.”

Okay, if Clint didn’t see that one coming. “What do you mean?”

“I just feel like I’d ruin your life, like if you wanted kids and wanted to get married or something, it would make it a lot harder having me around. Not to mention everybody I care about seems to die. I mean hell, my life could honestly be a messed up play by William Shakespeare,” Peter exclaimed, “and I just don’t want to mess things up for you.”

“First of all, don’t worry about ‘in the future’, whatever happens then we’ll make it work. I don’t want you to make this decision based off something we don’t know will happen, or can’t control. Second of all, I’m basically the definition of human disaster. Third of all, kiddo, you wouldn’t mess anything up, you really wouldn’t,” Clint reassured, pulling Peter into a one armed hug.

“I’m just scared,” the kid whispered as he leaned his head onto Clint’s shoulder, “everything seems to be going downhill, and I don’t want to drag you down with me.”

“It’s scary for me too,” Clint said softly, “I’m so scared that I’m going to mess everything up for you, I’m terrified. But I’m even more terrified that if I let you go that’ll mess everything up more.”

“Okay,” Peter mumbled, nodding, “I wanna stay with you.”

“Okay,” Clint whispered, holding Peter tightly, “okay.”

They just made that decision. It was official. Clint was sticking to his promise. He was keeping this kid. He was taking care of this kid. Of course he still had to get permission from the court, but Peter and him made the decision to go through with it. This was happening.

“I have to pee.”

“And way to kill the moment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun ‘hawk dad’ (don’t even know if that’s a thing) fact of the day: in the comics, Clint Barton is 6’3. Peter Parker is 5’10. But if you add the fact that Peter is fourteen in this he’s roughly (going off the average fourteen year old’s height and the fact that Peter is a smol bean because I said so) about, maybe, 5’4 or 5’5, so that’s nice. Also if you want to go off mcu Clint and Peter, Clint is still a inch taller then Peter and if you don’t think he would hold that over the kid every moment of his life you are dead wrong.


	7. What the fuc-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spider-Man, Spider-Man, does what ever a spider can, spins web of any size, gives Clint heart attacks just like bad guys, what the heck were you thinking, Spider-Man?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how bout that summary? Yeah, I know I’m terrible, but hey, I thought it was kinda funny. Anyways, moving on from my horribleness, I’d just like to apologize for the late update, I know, not cool. But hey, here it is, better late then never, right? Right... but to make up for my lateness I should be posting another chapter sometime in the next week. Hope y’all enjoy whatever this is! 
> 
> Disclaimer: y’all know I don’t own Marvel.

Clint was freaking out. Clint was full blown freaking out. Now, that wasn’t exactly a new feeling, not by a long shot actually, but this time it was a little worse. This time he felt like he was drowning under ice with no way to get some air, his heart pounded painfully loud as he tried to process what just happened, and what he had just been told. He didn’t think this could actually be reality, it just couldn’t be humanly possible for this to be real, honestly this could just be some twisted, fucked up dream, granted he didn’t think his brain could possibly come up with something like this, yet it was a comforting thought in away, despite knowing full well that it wasn’t true.

You see, it all started earlier this evening, he and Peter had been having a quiet night, they had ordered some pizza, Peter was working on some homework (he had gone back to school yesterday, three days after his Aunt’s funeral), and he himself had been going through the files of the last Avengers mission, he was also going through some things he had been sent by his lawyer about adopting Peter.

Like he said, quiet evening. It wasn’t until ten o’clock that things started getting unusual, Peter had stated he was going to go to bed, which granted wasn’t the weirdest thing to ever grace planet earth, it was just that Peter usually went to bed around eleven o’clock or twelve o’clock, he supposed it could have just been that it was the second day of going back to school, but something just felt, well, a little off. But he rolled with it, said good night to the kid and then went back to his work.

It was maybe fifteen minutes later when Clint heard a loud thump coming from Peter’s room, almost sounding like a window getting opened with to much force.

“Peter?” Clint called out, confused, looking up from his spot at the table, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” Peter yelled back, sounding slightly frantic, “just tripped over my own feet I guess!”

“Okay…” Clint said, it was a simple answer, it shouldn’t feel off, Peter didn’t have any reason to lie, not that the kid would.

He thinks at least.

But, he just shook his head, rolling his nerves off as stress from the last week. Mostly at least.

Around twelve he finally got tired and decided to get ready for bed. Taking his now fairly routine sleep spot on the sofa, unlike the last few nights though, sleep didn’t come. The, apparently, unshakable feeling that something was undoubtedly wrong wouldn’t let him.

It wasn’t until two o’clock in the morning when things started going downhill.

He heard a loud clunk coming yet again coming from Peter, which caused him to sit bolt upright out of alarm.

‘Something is wrong’ was the only thing going through Clint’s mind as he got up from his spot on the couch.

Clint got to Peter’s room. “Peter, are you okay?” He asked for the second time that night.

“Um yeah, yeah I’m fine,” Peter replied, sounding slightly panicked and flustered.

“Kid, you don’t sound fine,” Clint said hesitantly, now slightly panicked, “Peter, what’s going on?”

He could here Peter curse quietly.

“Pete?”

“Okay, um,” Peter started, Clint could hear that the kid’s breathing was starting to pick up a little, “I won’t lie, we have a, um, what you could say is a slight problem.”

“Peter you’re scaring me.”

“Listen, you gotta promise me you won’t freak out, because if you freak out I’ll freak out, okay? I promise I’ll explain.”

“Okay,” Clint agreed, not noticing that his heart rate had increased.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

And with that Clint opened the door, and came across the scene that would haunt him for the rest of his days. There was Peter, face full of panic as he hung off the wall by his fingertips, in what Clint could only describe as blue and red pajamas. The same blue and red pajamas that Queen’s own residential vigilante, Spider-Man, If Clint recalled correctly, wore. And that’s when Clint’s heart dropped down into his stomach, out of his body, all the way down to the lobby, and then some.

“What the fuc-“ Clint started, only to be interrupted by a frantic Peter.

“Nope, nope, nope, you promised you wouldn’t freak out!” Peter argued, detaching himself from the wall, then making is way towards Clint, only to stop midway and clutch his torso in pain.

“Shit, what happened to you?!” Clint asked, crossing the distance between them, and cupping Peter’s cheek tilting the kid’s face upwards so he could look at him, inspecting him for injuries, noting a decent size cut right above the kid’s eyebrow.

“Well,” Peter began, fidgeting and trying to avoid any eye contact, “funny story actually. Um...”

“Peter.”

“Ugh, okay, basically I was doing my usual patrol-”

“Your what?!” Clint exclaimed, sucking In a sharp breath.

Peter flinched at that. “My usual patrol, I go around most of Queens-”

“Oh my god,” Clint breathed, moving his hand and running it through his own hair.

“Do you want an explanation or not?” Peter snapped, his eyes betraying him by showing his panic and fear.

“Right, sorry.”

“So basically, I was on my usual patrol, when I bumped into some muggers-“

Clint brought in a sharp breath.

“-who were starting to gang up on this poor guy, so I go down and tell them to get lost, which of course never works, but hey, it’s a great way to start a fight, so yeah, I tell them to get lost and leave him alone, so then they turn their attention on to me, which lets the dude get away, so then they get pissed and they start fighting with me which I expected, but I just didn’t know that one them had a knife…” Peter told him, growing quirter at the last part.

“A knife?” Clint questioned, now starting to hear the sound of his own ears ringing.

“Yeah,” Peter confirmed, his voice going higher than normal, “I got stabbed…”

“Oh Jesus,” Clint whispered, pure fear starting to flow through him, “where did you get stabbed?”

“Umm, I think my torso,” Peter said in an almost questioning voice, “but I can’t exactly remember. Also, on a totally unrelated note, I think I’m going to pass out.”

“Oh god,” was all Clint said as he gently scoped Peter up into his arms, turning out of the kid’s room and making his way into the kitchen.

He gently set the kid onto the counter top, turning the light on, then taking a second to run his hand through the small boys unruly hair.

“Peter, kiddo, do you have a first aid kit for this kind of stuff?” Clint asked, praying the answer was ‘yes’.

Peter nodded, all a suddenly looking incredible tired.

“Where is it?”

“Under my bed,” Peter replied drowsily, “it’s in a white tub.”

“Okay, I’m gonna grab that, stay there and stay awake,” Clint ordered, sprinting into the kid’s room, crouching down and looking under the bed, quickly locating a decently sized white container, Clint grabbed it and hurriedly made his way back to Peter.

“I got it,” Clint told him, opening it up as fast as he could, quickly finding everything he needed.

“Okay,” Peter managed to mumble.

Clint carefully removed the top of Peter’s Spider-Man ‘suit’, taking a good look at the deep wound that was currently stationed on Peter’s torso, Clint felt a wave of anger crash through him, the thought of somebody deliberately hurting this kid made him want to puke. It just felt wrong, the whole situation felt wrong if he was being honest. It wasn’t supposed to be Peter, Clint had this kind of stuff happen to him all the time, but this stuff, it shouldn’t happen to this little boy. But Clint forced himself to push is thoughts aside, focusing on the problem at hand.

So with that Clint got to work.

It only took a matter of minutes, but it felt like hours to Clint but he was finally done.

Clint shook ever so slightly as he looked down at the kid, his heart crumbling at the realization that Peter had probably done that to himself more then once before, that Peter has potentially had worse injuries. Clint tried his hardest to shake that thought out of his mind, Peter still needed him to help him.

“Peter?” Clint asked quietly, gently stroking the barely awake kid’s cheek.

“Mhm” Peter mumbled, tiredly sitting upright.

“It’s time for bed. For real this time,” Clint told him, taking the kid up into his arms.

Peter only nodded as Clint took him into his room, he sat the kid on his bed before carefully removing the rest of the kid’s suit, changing the kid into a (hopefully) clean shirt, then gently laying the kid down onto his bed.

“You know you’re gonna have give me an explanation for everything in the morning, right?” Clint murmured to the kid.

Peter only made a small groaning noise in response, which caused a small, short lived smile to appear on Clint’s face. This kid would honestly be the death of him.

Clint got up from his crouched position next to Peter’s bed, ruffling the kid’s hair before leaving the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

Clint slowly made his way back to the couch, flopping onto it face first as he tried to wrap his head around what had just happened.

Peter Parker was Spider-Man. Peter Parker, a fourteen year old child, was Spider-Man.

So here he was, freaking out, feeling as though his life had gotten flipped upside down for what seemed to be the millionth time in the last several days. Clint honestly just wanted to scream into the never ending void of confusion that his life seemed to have become, but he had a distinct feeling that the neighbors wouldn’t appreciate him having a mental break down at three o’clock in the morning. So instead he settled for intensely screaming into a pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m weirdly happy because I didn’t have to use a line break in this chapter.


	8. Lagos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We catch up on what has happened in the last three weeks, and Captain America: Civil War begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologize for this piece of shit. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Marvel.

It had been three weeks since Clint had found out about Spider-Man. He still clearly remembers the long conversation they had had the day after. Once Peter got back from school (despite Clint’s arguments that Peter had been stabbed and shouldn’t go, Peter had reassured that he had gone to school with worse, which didn’t exactly comfort Clint, but he allowed the kid to go anyways), Clint had asked basically every question there was to be asked - how long had he been doing this? How did you become Spider-Man? Who else knows? What are your abilities? And many more. Peter had explained clearly, he luckily didn’t seemed the slightest annoyed, more concerned on whether or not Clint was going to allow him to continue. A question Clint had been expecting, he had said yes, under a few conditions: the kid had to be home at a reasonable time on the weekdays, he had to tell Clint when he got hurt, he also had to tell Clint before he went out and, most importantly, he would let Clint train him. It had so far gone well, Peter had, for the most part, kept up with the conditions, although there had been a few incidents where Peter pulled an all-nighter, or tried to hide an injury. Clint hadn’t to upset about the all-nighter incidents, coming to the conclusion that he wasn’t one to talk, but the injuries had been more of a problem, it ended in Clint giving Peter an hour rant about how he needed to tell him these kinds of things, and that it wasn’t okay for him to do that, and so on, and so on. But other then those incidents, it had been mostly smooth sailing, Clint had been fairly impressed with Peter’s fighting skills during training, but also slightly alarmed that a fourteen year old knew that kind of stuff, but he understood that it was part of the job.

Despite the Spider-Man fiasco, things had been going smoothly per se, the were both incredible relieved because the adoption had gone through. Now Clint hadn’t been particularly doubtful that he would get custody of the kid, his chances had been higher since no one else was asking for it, but he had been worried, mostly because he was afraid that he would get denied because of the fact he was Hawkeye, that and/or the fact that he was (in his opinion at least) the screw-up of the century. But somehow, Social Services said yes. And Clint had honestly thought he was going to pass out over the pure relief, Peter had just hugged him and had mumbled a ‘thank you’ when Clint had told him, Clint had only hugged the kid tighter.

All and all, things had been going relatively peacefully, Clint had been taking a leave of absence from field work, having told the others when he had gone back to the tower to grab some things, and meet up with them (they were there because of the mission they had just had) to talk about what his ‘situation’ was currently, most of them had been incredibly understanding when he had told them, a few of them had been, you could say, slightly judgemental at first of his decision, which surprise, surprise, didn’t go down well with Clint, who, ended going on an at least thirty minute long rant about how ‘this was his decision, and if they disapproved they could go suck an eggplant, because the kid needed him, and he wasn’t about to let him down’, which seemed to quiet them down for the most part. Other then that, nothing too eventful had happened, Clint had been looking at apartments, having asked Peter what his opinion on moving was and if he was okay with it, or if he wanted to wait awhile longer, Peter had responded that he would probably be okay if they did, that it might be for the best.

Peter had been doing relatively okay, for the most part, he was, coping, Clint tried to be as supportive as possible, understanding the kid needed space, but not enough space that he felt alone, and it so far life had been going as well as it could be. School had been going well enough for the kid, his grades had managed to stay the same, all As and minimum problems. Overall, things had been going well enough for the pair.

Unfortunately things never seem to stay the same for long.

 

—look at me! I’m a line break! I RUIN LIVES BECAUSE IM A PAIN IN THE MOTHERHUGGING ARSE—

 

It was a normal, average day, Clint and Peter had the morning debate over whether or not Peter needed anything for breakfast besides coffee, Clint saying that with the kid’s super metabolism that it was important that he ate, and Peter counter that ‘Clint basically had a million cups of coffee and no breakfast almost every day’, the argument going on for a little while more but ending with Clint throwing a granola bar or some form of fruit at the kid, which Peter would end up eating. Clint had also gone grocery shopping, which felt weird since he was now shopping for two, including the fact that one of them had a super metabolism, and the other one just ate a shit ton (cough cough Clint), then he had done some work, going through files, writing a summary about a mission he had a few months back, looking through some security footage following potential threats, and other ex-assassin, super spy, Avenger work, until Peter called him around twelve o’clock.

‘Shouldn’t he be in lunch now?’ Clint thought to himself as he picked up his phone and answered.

“Hey, Pete, what’s up?” Clint asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Did you see the news?” Peter asked, his voice sounding slightly shaky.

“No, why?”

“Just look at it,” Peter told him, Clint could practically see the kid pacing.

“Okay,” Clint said in slight confusion as he opened a new tab and went to the news, “but what’s goin-”

He stopped his question short, panic suddenly going through him like a bullet as he looked at the headline.

‘Death toll rising after a confrontation with mercenaries in Lagos, Eleven Wakandans have died, Avengers at fault?’ It read, Clint felt as though his heart stopped.

“Jesus,” Clint whispered as he scrolled down, seeing article after article about it, “what the hell happened?”

“I don’t know,” Peter replied sullenly, “They only explained a little bit of what happened, I guess they don’t have the full report yet.”

“I guess not,” Clint muttered, clicking on one of the many news stories on it.

“Is everything going to be okay?” Peter asked, Clint could hear a slight amount of fear in the kid’s voice.

“I think so,” Clint told him, trying his best to hide his worry.

“It’s just so terrible, I mean it’s not the Scarlet Witch’s fault at all, but I just feel so bad for the people and their families,” Peter said, pain in his voice.

“I know, it shouldn’t have happened, but we make mistakes, unfortunately for us in are field of work it’s a bigger price to pay that we share with the people,” Clint responded with a sigh, rubbing his temples with his other hand, guilt running through him thinking of all the deaths he had caused or could have prevented over the years.

“Crap, listen, I have to go, lunch is almost over and I’m out here pacing in the hallway, so unless I want to get trampled verbally by a teacher, I better go,” Peter told Clint with a sigh.

“Okay, kid, I’ll text you if anything updates. Shoot me a text when you’re on your way home.”

“Okay, bye!”

“Bye, kiddo.”

Clint hung up, sighing as he started going through the article. It stated that “Eleven Wakandans were among those killed during the confrontation.” Clint’s heart twisted a bit in his chest, ‘this was bad’ he thought to himself, dread filling him, this was only going to get worse, wasn’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo that happened.


	9. The accords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the title says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry. 
> 
> PS this chapter may have more grammar mistakes then usual because I usually pay extra close attention when I’m about to post on here because you all kinda scare me shitless but I couldn’t find it in me to do that today, I’ll probably do it tomorrow but be gentle until then please.

It had been a month since the events of Lagos, and as Clint had suspected would happen, things had only gotten worse. Talking about the Avengers, whether they were heroes, vigilantes, or just plan out dangerous, had seemed to be the news’ new favorite pastime, and the general public’s as well. Multiple people had died in the incident, including eleven Wakandans. It was becoming a political mess. The king of Wakanda had spoken out about it many times, stating ‘Our people’s blood was spilled on foreign soil, not only because of the actions of criminals, but by the indifference of those pledged to stop them. Victory at the expense of the innocent is no victory at all.’

Things had quickly become even more stressful for Clint, he was trying to balance his usual work, his own private life, and the recent events. It didn’t help that the most information he could get from the rest of the team was over the phone, because at the moment everybody was at the compound, Clint had managed to get together with Natasha and talk over the current state of things, but unfortunately that had been quickly interrupted by the general public apparently having zero respect for privacy.

It wasn’t until a Sunday night when surprisingly Rhodey had called him, that everything came out. Peter was listening to ‘next to normal’ (a musical of some sorts) on full blast at the kitchen counter while he tried to do his homework, while Clint was trying (and failing) to make dinner.

“Well, kid, I sincerely hope you’re okay with pizza again because I just burned these noodles so badly that The Human Torch from those comic books we found would be jealous,” Clint said as he dumped the remains of the crispy and burnt looking noodles into the trash can with a sigh. 

“Oh my god,” Peter laughed, looking at the scene in front of him. “I should honestly sign you up for a cooking class or something.”

“Oh, you are just as bad as I am,” Clint playfully quipped back. 

“Whatever,” Peter grumbled, though the smile on his face gave him away. “I’ll call the pizza place and ask for our usual.”

“There is no way that they know our usual.’

“Okay, maybe not… but I honestly wouldn’t surprised if they did.”

Clint only rolled his eyes, though he was smiling a little to himself, it was nice to hear the kid laugh, the jokes that would have the kid into hysterical laughs (either from the fact that it was hilarious, or that it was so depressingly bad that’s all you could do), only received small snorts of amusement, and a smile that lied for the sad look in his eyes.

Clint was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard the phone ringing, which obviously wasn’t the weirdest thing in the world, but a bit surprising since they didn’t usually get many calls, he looked over at Peter who had a slightly surprised look on his face and appeared to have just pulled out his own cell phone, most likely to call the pizza place.

“Huh,” Peter muttered, as the kid proceeded to set down his own phone, pausing the music that was playing from it, and picked up the home one instead and answered. “Hello?”

“Jesus Christ, Barton! I’ve been trying to call you on your cell for the last hour, what the hell, man?” Clint could hear the voice from the other side of the phone shout.

“Umm… this is Peter, I’ll hand you over to Clint though,” Peter responded with a slightly dazed look on his face as he went to hand Clint the phone. “I guess it’s for you.”

Clint only cringed as he grudgingly took the phone from Peter, this should be good. “Yes?” He asked into the phone.

“Why the hell haven’t you been answering your phone?! I’ve called you almost eight times in the last hour!” The voice of Rhodey yelled.

“Yeah, sorry Rhodey, my cell is, um, kinda broken at the moment,” Clint explained as he ran his hand through his hair, the memory of his phone accidentally getting thrown over the side of a building when he and Peter had been late night (the only time of day were they could get training in and not look suspicious as hell, and/or crazy) sparring flashing through his mind.

He heard Rhodey grumble something about ‘irresponsible’ and ‘completely ridiculous’ and ‘sweet Jesus, just kill me now.”

“Okay, if you’re done complaining about my broken phone, will you please explain to me why you’ve supposedly called me eight times,” Clint said, slightly annoyed.

“Have you heard of senator Ross?” Rhodey asked with a sigh.

“Yeah, I’ve heard of him. Supposedly the dudes a bit of a di-“ Clint stopped upright, glancing at the (semi) innocent fourteen year old watching him at the moment, “dude’s a bit of a jerk…”

Clint could practically see Rhodey rolling his eyes on the other side of the phone.

“Anyways, what about him?” Clint asked, trying to avoid getting chided for insulting a senator.

Clint could only stare blankly as Rhodey explained what had happened today.

“So basically, you’re saying that we ether have to sign this accord thing, or we ‘retire’?” Clint confirmed.

“Yeah, Tony, Vision, Natasha, and I agree with it,” Rhodey told him. “Steve and Sam not so much, and Wanda is undecided. We can’t just ignore this, 117 countries want to sign this.”

“How long do we have until we have to make a decision?”

“About three days.”

“Send it to me.”

“Will do,” Rhodey agreed. “I gotta go now, I just saw Vision float into the kitchen and I rather not have to deal with a blown up kitchen on top of everything else.” 

“Okay. Thanks for letting me know what’s up,” Clint said, running a hand down his face.

“You’re welcome, also, don’t be surprised if Nat calls you later, and most of the team for that matter,” and with that Rhodey hung up on him.

“Great,” Clint muttered sarcastically. Just what he wanted to do with his evening, read a basically god knows how long essay on why they all suck and should be under the government's control, and receive several angry phone calls from his teammates who seem not to have any sense of volume, and would most likely ether be mad at him, or bitching about the accords, granted he could always answer then turn down his hearing aids, but that would most likely end in a few solid kicks to the gut.

“What was that about?” Peter’s slightly shocked voice broke through his musing.

“That’s a good question, let me get back to you on that.”

Lalalala-line break ThIs iS fiNe-lalalala

It had been five hours since Rhodey had called him, it was now eleven o’clock at night, and he was still reading the damn accords. He officially wanted to die. Peter had gone out and done his usual patrol, but came back an hour earlier, claiming that it was a quiet night, and had quickly sat down next to Clint in front of the computer and was reading it with him, Clint had been hesitant to let him read it because of how much there seemed to be basically saying enhanced people didn’t deserve to be normal human beings, but he figured if Peter didn’t read it with him he would just look it up online and that seemed even worse.

Along with reading, he had, as Rhodey had warned him, gotten phone calls from the following: Wanda, Sam, and Tony, but he had yet to hear from Nat. Wanda, had called to both check up, and discuss her opinion. Sam had called and mostly raged about it (rightfully so). And Tony had called and asked what he was going to do, Clint had told him he was still reading through it, which was for the most part true, but if he was honest, he did not like what he was seeing. At all.

It was too restricting in his opinion, he liked being in control of his decisions, even when he was with Shield he was known for bending the rules, and disobeying orders in favor of his own opinions. He also didn’t approve of the lack of privacy, one of his biggest dislikes was it opened up that chance. 

His opinions came tumbling out when Natasha finally called him.

“So basically you’re saying that you’re going to retire?” She said after Clint had finished his miniature rant to her.

“I’m almost positive. I think the thing’s absolute BS, if it had just been the Avengers then I wouldn’t have as big of deal with it, but it includes every enhanced person,” Clint said, sighing.

“Okay,” was all Natasha said. “What do you think you’re going to do if not this?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t really gotten that far yet,” Clint responded, it was true, he didn’t really have an idea, he would say it would probably be something along the lines of police or potentially FBI, but with the accords that wouldn’t be an option.“I just know that it won’t be what I have been, I don’t agree with the terms, and I mean, I am getting older, it might be time for me to start settling down a little,” an image of Peter flashing into his mind.

“Do want me to tell the rest of the team?”

“No,” Clint responded, he knew that his decision would be evening ‘the sides’ some and it was only going to make the arguing worse, especially since Wanda for the most part seemed against it. “I’ll tell them either tomorrow or the day after that, I’m probably going to get a ear full from a few of them.”

“Okay,” she responded. “Listen, I should probably get going, I have somethings to take care, and I’m sure you have things to do and think about. Just call me tomorrow or something.”

“Will do, bye.”

“Bye.” And with that they both hung up. 

Clint leaned back in his seat, letting the sofa submerge him completely. He couldn’t believe that he was going to ‘retire’, he had always thought that if he was going to stop being a ‘superhero’ that it would be because he died or something, not because somebody said he had to or basically become a weapon. It felt odd, part of him wanted to keep fighting, wanted to keep fighting and protecting people until he died, but he couldn’t bring himself to agree with the damn thing, especially because signing was agreeing they were dangerous, and be agreeing to it meant agreeing that Peter was dangerous. 

He twisted his head to the side and looked over at Peter, who had fallen asleep over half an hour ago (from either exhaustion or boredom), and was curled up in a blanket.

Clint smiled a little, running a hand through the kid’s unruly hair, watching as the kid gave a little twitch like a puppy who just got petted while sleeping and shifted his head onto Clint’s shoulder.

He wasn’t going to sign the accords.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo that happened. Hope y’all enjoyed though. Also I finally decided to bite the bullet and join tumbler, so that’s nice.


End file.
